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September 12, 2004
Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
The Other Way of Thinking
Luke 15:1-10
The parables of the lost sheep and the lost coin are probably some of the most familiar stories in the Bible. As a child, when my parents had meetings or choir practice at church, I would settle into a corner in the church library and read the Golden Books series, the ones with the bright pictures and stories from the Bible told in verse. One of my favorites was the story of the Lost Sheep. I can still see the drawing of the young shepherd, carrying the much-relieved sheep over his shoulders, headed home. And one year the junior choir did a musical called The Storytelling Man, which included a song about the lost coin:
Coin, coin, only a coin
Why are you worried? Why do you fret?
Coin, coin, only a coin.
Why don't you simply forget?
These two parables are stories that I know well. But as is often the case with me, when I look at them more closely, I am surprised by how surprising the stories truly are.
Jesus told these parables because the scribes and the Pharisees were grumbling—again. They were annoyed because Jesus did not do things the way other people—that is, respectable people—did them. He claimed to be such an authority on God, and here he was, interacting with—even eating with!—the kinds of people that the scriptures clearly said were sinners, unclean, people not to be associated with. Jesus was breaking all the rules! How could he speak for God?
Jesus finds himself in an interesting situation. He is surrounded by the insiders—the scribes and Pharisees—and the outsiders—the tax collectors and sinners. Both are listening to him.
So he tells them a story.
"Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?"
We've heard this story so many times, we don't really think about it. The words, the scenario, are familiar. But what he's done with this is really quite shocking. He does two things: he invites the respectable Pharisees to imagine that they are unrespectable, mostly suspect, shepherds. At the same time, he suggests that God is like a shepherd. With one fell swoop, Jesus has again offended the scribes and Pharisees, and included the very ones they would keep out of God's embrace.
But that's not the only surprise waiting for us in this parable.
Now, I'm not a farmer, and I'm sure neither are the scholars I read while researching the sermon this week, but you have to wonder about the wisdom of a shepherd leaving ninety-nine sheep in the wilderness—not taken home and locked in a pen—but in the wilderness, and going off to find the one that is lost, perhaps even dead. You've lost one, but ninety-nine are in good shape. Why take chances? Take care of the ninety-nine first, and then worry about the one.
But that's not what the parable says. And it goes on: "When he has found [the sheep], he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.'" (vv. 5-6)
Jesus tells a second parable, as well. "What woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.'" (vv. 8-9)
The value of the coin is one day's wage. Scholars argue about whether that was significant for this woman, or not. Some believe the coin had more sentimental value, part of the ten silver coins Palestinian women turned into a head dress when they were married. It's difficult for us to determine the true worth of this coin, but for this woman it's value is never in question. She lights a lamp, burning precious and costly oil, to help her search as she sweeps the floor, looking in every corner, until the coin is found. And when she finds it, she tells her friends and neighbors and invites them to have a party with her.
That's the part that always gets me. It's just so illogical. This woman, who may be so poor that she is desperately in need of this coin, throws a party when she finds it. She would have to provide food and drink for her guests, and the cost of that would probably equal if not exceed the value of the coin that she's just found. It doesn't make sense.
Which may be exactly the point. God's way of thinking, God's priorities do not make sense to those of us who think according to worldly wisdom. Both of these stories are simply absurd; you could even call the behavior of the shepherd and the woman foolish and extravagant.
These parables speak good news to the tax collectors and sinners: Guess what? Although you've heard that you are outside of God's kingdom, the truth is that God loves you, even more than all of those who have shut the door on you all those years. The world may tell you that you are of little value, but to God, you are worth everything.
And there's a message to the scribes and Pharisees: be careful about being so certain of your place and your privilege. You are so convinced that your way is God's way that you spend your energy protecting and enforcing it, rather than keeping your eyes open to new signs of the kingdom. It's all around you, and you're missing it.
Absurd? Illogical? Perhaps that's the way the world looks in God's eyes. These parables, as well as the entire Gospel of Luke, present the world with God's way of thinking, as Jesus' in his words and actions redefines what power and authority are and who has them, and what and who is valuable to God.
There are many ways that this "other way of thinking" could speak to us, but as I've reflected this week, there's one idea that continually comes to my mind.
According to the way the world thinks, our congregation is in a difficult spot right now—no senior pastor, and operating with about half the usual space. Conventional wisdom says that at best, we're in a holding pattern, and at worst, we may experience a period of decline before we reach the light at the end of the tunnel. I've received several phone calls from colleagues who have heard about what's happening here and ask with great concern, "How are you doing? How are things going?" The answer I give them is, "We're doing just fine, thanks. In fact, I'd say we're doing very well."
I'm not putting on a brave face when I say that; I truly believe it. Because there is another way of thinking about our situation. I have been impressed by the number of people who said they've moved from surprise and sadness at Larry's departure, to feeling like this is the best thing for our church. Yes, there are difficulties involved with having fewer staff and fewer rooms, but difficult situations tend to bring out the best in people. There is an amazing spirit in this place right now. I personally think this congregation is even stronger in Larry's wake. In fact, it occurred to me this week that what we're experiencing is a little resurrection—that out of the "death" of losing our head of staff and part of our building has come new life, new direction, new purpose, new leadership.
My friends, I am proud and I am privileged to stand with you as these signs of new life continue to emerge and take root. I believe that the great day for this congregation is not that "someday" when the renovation is complete and our new senior pastor is in place, but it is right now, in the very midst of our "temporariness" and our difficulties and our inconveniences.
I've seen it around me, and it has changed my thinking. And I, for one, thank God for that. Amen.
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First Presbyterian
Church of Cedar Rapids
310 Fifth Street SE Cedar Rapids, IA 52401
Phone: 319-364-6148
E-mail: church@fpccr.org
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